A More Optimal Solution
by TheSilverHunt3r
Summary: There was an unreadable expression on the Port Mafia boss's face. Mori's gaze wandered back to Dazai. "Run, Dazai-kun. Save your friend," Mori advised. Dad!Mori, Port Mafia!Dazai, oneshot.


Summary: There was an unreadable expression on the Port Mafia boss's face. Mori's gaze wandered back to Dazai. "Run, Dazai-kun. Save your friend," Mori advised. Dad!Mori, Port Mafia!Dazai, oneshot.

"Do you walk in the valley of kings?  
Do you walk in the shadow of men?  
Who sold their lives to a dream?  
Do you ponder the manner of things  
In the dark  
The dark, the dark, the dark"  
-Glitter and Gold, Barns Courtney

It was a curious sight to see four high ranking mafiosos sitting on the floor.

Mori, the Boss of the Port Mafia, was patching up Dazai and Chuuya after a mission that went sideways.

The two boys argued as always, flinching every so often as their wounds were cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged. They were cold, blankets covering whatever parts of them Mori wasn't treating at the time.

They both had their heads on Kouyou's lap, a Port Mafia Executive they both referred to as Ane-san. Kouyou gently stroked their hair, keeping them calm.

Due to the necessary skin contact with Dazai to treat the boy's wounds, Mori kept Elise dispelled. Her constantly popping in and out would be more of an annoyance than a help.

Hirotsu sat in an armchair nearby. He announced that the hot water he had brought in had cooled enough to be used to make hot chocolate.

Chuuya and Dazai sat up. They tried to inch closer to where Hirotsu was sitting.

"Almost done," Mori promised. He looked them in the eye to make sure they stayed put. Putting in a crooked stitch would be be annoying. "Then you can get some."

XXX

Mori sighed. He put a hand on the reports spread out in front of him. There were a bit concerning-they were successful, but when it came to Akutagawa. . . . "How are you dealing with your new apprentice?"

"He's been responding fine." Dazai's eyes were dark. He didn't like Akutagawa. The novelty had worn off, leaving the only tediousness of having an apprentice.

"Yes," Mori admitted, "I have been looking over your reports." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk. "Be more gentle, Dazai-kun," he advised. "I don't want you to break him."

"But I can't use your methods, he's stupid and has an offensive ability," Dazai bluntly complained.

"Surely you can come up with something suited for him that also doesn't psychologically damage him for the rest of his life? Explore other methods, Dazai-kun." The last sentence was not a suggestion, it was an order.

XXX

"Boss?" Dazai asked. "You're behind all of this aren't you?"

There was an unreadable expression on the Port Mafia boss's face. Mori's gaze wandered back to Dazai. "Run, Dazai-kun. Save your friend," Mori advised.

Dazai's lips thinned into a neutral line. "Boss." He turned around and left.

The guards lifted their guns. They lowered them at a gesture from Mori.

The time didn't make any difference to whether or not Odasaku's death. Dazai only got there a few seconds earlier, the chance to spend a few more precious seconds with his dying friend.

No, the real difference was that Mori hadn't completely shattered Dazai's trust in him.

The lack of change to their relationship was astronomical. Dazai was always bound to the Port Mafia somehow, but how he saw those bonds. . .well, it differed between universes.

That night Dazai didn't break with the Port Mafia. He didn't leave.

He stayed.

To be more specific about his actions that night, he broke into Chuuya's apartment—Chuuya was off in Europe—and emptied half of his partner's wine cabinet.

XXX

The next evening Dazai ended up at Mori's apartment. It wasn't any trouble for him to get there. He knew all of the passwords and no one questioned his presence of they saw him.

He cracked open Mori's cabinet. Dazai had always preferred whiskey to wine, but last night he didn't have the mind to be choosy.

Last night he hadn't wanted to be anywhere near anything of Mori's. Even dulled by alcohol, the rage inside of him scorched the idea of Mori in his head, turning the picture—everything he thought he knew—into a pile of ash. Now, still hungover, his mind was not clear but certainly not focused on the mastermind behind his misery.

Dazai popped the cork of an old bottle of whiskey. He didn't bother to read the label, instead choosing to rapidly get drunk and stop paying attention to the throbbing headache he had.

The door opened.

"Dazai-kun."

Dazai was either a weepy drunk or a particularly immature one, as if his child self had taken over his body. Right now, he was the latter. "Mori-san," he called out. "Come have some." In his buzzed brain, it didn't register that he was offering Mori his own whiskey.

"Elise, grab a cup of water." Mori pulled the bottle from Dazai's hands. "No more of this for you," he insisted.

"But I want it," Dazai whined, making a futile attempt at grabbing the bottle. "It's some of the good high ratio stuff."

Mori handed the bottle to Elise. He held a cup of water to Dazai's lips. "Drink," he ordered.

Dazai pouted but complied.

"You're going to bed."

"But I don't want to." Dazai stood up, swaying.

Mori steadied Dazai.

Dazai sank into him, balance completely gone. Drinking never helped him forget; it just made the pain more dull, as if he was injected himself with an anesthetic. "Mori-san, why'd you do that?" Dazai asked. It came out muffled by Mori's coat, but still legible.

Mori's eyes were empty. "Sometimes, you do things in life that you're not proud of. Sometimes you don't want to do things that you feel you have to but don't want to. Sometimes, you do things because you think they're the best way forward that you can see-you find out afterwards, that they're not. And then you wonder how things could have been different, because you regret what you did but you can't fix things."

Dazai stayed silent for a while. His view of Mori was as someone who did what he wanted. His view of Mori was as the person who made people dance on strings. He associated Mori with the very idea of schadenfreude. "You didn't want to?" His tone was close to scoffing.

"No." Mori put a hand on Dazai's shoulder. "Now, you're going to bed. Move." With any luck, Dazai would forget this conversation.

Dazai acted like he did. . . but, he didn't. He never did.

XXX

A week later

Mori gestured for the guards to leave them. He sank back into his chair, his gaze heavy, considering. He sighed. "You can't go on like this." But he didn't think Dazai would improve if he stayed here. He was thinking out-loud, how unusual for him.

"Boss?" Dazai questioned.

Mori was still deep in thought, this time silently.

"Mori-san?" Dazai whined. He hated being ignored.

"How about I send you on a long term mission," Mori smiled, "More of a break than anything."

Dazai blinked, confused. "Where?" In the Port Mafia, one was never supposed to question the Boss, but that never really applied to Dazai.

"The Armed Detective Agency." Mori vaguely added, gesturing, "For a bit."

Dazai noted that Mori hadn't specified how long he would be a spy or for what purpose. He couldn't help but ask, "Why them?"

Mori hummed, tapping his pen at the edge of his desk. "To have you there keeping an eye on them would be. . . useful." His eyes sharpened, yet he kept his aura of carefully chosen nonchalance.

"Okay," Dazai chirped, playing along. He knew he wouldn't get any more out of his mentor. "Who will have my subordinates? Chuuya?" By mentioning his partner, he had already made his top choice clear.

"Yes, unless you want them under Kouyou-san?" Mori suggested.

Ace, the fourth executive, wasn't even considered as a possibility—no one in the upper echelons liked him.

"Chuuya is fine. It won't be easy to handle Akutagawa," Dazai pointed out. "Ane-san has enough on her hands." He kept a careful eye on Mori as he wondered what this was about.

XXX

A week later

Chuuya had his hands behind his back. He clenched them together nervously, a reassuring habit. "Teach me strategy," he requested.

A smile crept onto Mori's face. "Alright," he agreed.

XXX

The story as one knew it proceeded as normal. Dazai joined the Armed Detective Agency after getting Ango to clean it for him. Everyone in the Port Mafia thought Dazai was a traitor, and he certainly kept up a good act.

The Guild and Dostoyevsky came around. They were both defeated, although it took some effort.

XXX

Dazai was at his apartment. His phone rang. He picked it up without looking at the name. He was too busy building house of cards. "Dazai here," he chirped, turning the speaker phone on and putting it down.

"I need you to come back as soon as you can."

"What happened?" Dazai idly asked. It must be something big for Mori to call him back. Perhaps someone smart is stealing shipments again?

There was a silence, the type of pause that would make Dazai hold his breath if he was a normal person. He extended the width of the house of cards, carefully building on top.

"Chuuya has been missing for six days," Mori informed. His voice was monotone, lacking any emotion that even hinted at his buried concern.

Dazai's hand jerked. The houses of cards fell, a noisy fluttering and faint clatter as it hit the table. Just as monotone he replied, "I'll be there soon."

XXX

Dazai didn't show up at work.

"Do you think something happened to him?" Atsushi asked, anxious thoughts of what could have occurred ran through his head.

Dazai usually showed up by noon. It was currently two in the afternoon.

"If he got kidnapped again, that's because the idiot wanted to be kidnapped," Kunikida said.

Atsushi thought over his senior's words and nodded—Kunikida was right.

XXX

A grate from a vent in the ceiling of Mori's office was removed.

Dazai dropped onto the couch with an odd sort of grace that came from practice. He perched on the edge of Mori's desk. He stretched his torso and neck out, trying to peek over Mori's shoulder.

"It has been a while seen I last saw you." Mori looked up. "You're even more smug now," he commented.

"I've gotten better at acting cheerful too!" Dazai said with a smile. Unlike his fake smiles from when he was a teenager, the sight wouldn't give civilians a fight or flight instinct and wouldn't give criminals a feeling that they had just met a demon disguised in human skin.

Dazai took off his dusty tan trenchcoat. A sort of nostalgic feeling invaded him. He folded it up messily. He remembered Odasaku's old coat, the reason he had chosen to go with tan to begin with. This was probably the last day he would ever wear tan for a long time. Every time he saw tan, he remembered Oda. Wearing tan for two years. . . . It made him feel sick whenever he saw the color.

A black coat sat on Mori's desk, neatly folded up. Dazai put the tan one down, exchanging his trenchcoat for the new one.

"Please don't burn this one," Mori requested, humor in his tone.

Dazai lips twitched up. "No promises," he sang as he pulled on the black coat.

Mori tapped the file about Chuuya's kidnapping.

Dazai picked it up.

"Welcome back to the Port Mafia, officially, Dazai-kun."

Dazai couldn't say something like 'good to be back'. He didn't like being anywhere. "Thanks, Mori-san."

XXX

Yosano was at the docks. It was late at night. She was there because of a text from Dazai.

Dazai strolled out of the night. He was clad in black, splattered in a dark liquid, and holding something in his arms.

"Dazai?" Yosano asked.

"Ah, Yosano-san. Thanks for coming. Could you heal this Chibi?" Dazai's smile was strained, unnoticeable in the dim lighting.

"You'll owe me," Yosano reminded. Favors were currency in the Agency. She would be the first to be owed by Dazai, instead of others owing him.

Dazai grumbled slightly, a token show of his dramatic side, and agreed. He put down the person he had been carrying.

Yosano frowned at the bloody mess of a man. She had seen a lot of horrible things, but this was definitely near the top of the list. Yosano was impressed that he was still breathing.

Some fingers were missing. The entire right calf looked like it had been shredded by a sharp cheese grater. Black burn marks with an ashy acrid smell-they were from the butts of lit cigarettes-covered his chest. Deep knife cuts littered any otherwise unwounded inch of skin. His clothes were torn. Part of him was covered in coagulated blood, sticking to him and appearing gel-like in consistency.

There was no way to avoid touching an injury.

Yosano carefully tapped the unknown man's arm. Blood smeared onto her fingertips. Her ability activated, showing that the man had truly been on the doorstep of death.

Once the most pressing matter was taken care of, Yosano stood up and turned to her coworker. "Dazai, why are you dressed like that?"

"The doctor wanted me to come back," Dazai admitted. He was dressed in black, but he looked the same as always, he acted the same as always.

Yosano froze. She knew exactly which doctor he was talking about. Her hands trembled, in fear, in rage? Not even she knew the emotion welling up in her. "Leave."

Dazai bowed to her, more of a dramatic, sarcastic gesture than anything else. He left with his unconscious partner, both still caked in blood.

XXX

Mori's private infirmary

Chuuya cracked open his eyes. He was surprised he was feeling so good. His high sense of wellness plummeted when he saw his partner at his bedside. "Dazai," he growled. Why was Dazai wearing that coat? "You're f*cking back?" Great, that's definitely what he needed right after being kidnapped and torturers.

"I'll let you in on something." Dazai leaned forward. A mischievous light was in his eyes. "I never really left."

The broken thing in Chuuya's chest that had cracked when Dazai left, started to fill with hope. Not that he showed it. "You were a double agent the entire time?" Chuuya irately asked. "You were just f*cking with me the entire time?" He scowled—Dazai hadn't needed to act like he had actually gone to the Agency's side with Chuuya.

Dazai nodded. His lips twitched as he saw Chuuya's expression. He trembled slightly, biting his lip. He quickly gave up-laughter pouted out from him, high and airy. He got hit in the shoulder while he was distracted with trying to breathe. It just made him have another laughing fit.

"You're really hopeless," Chuuya declared, shaking his head. There was annoyance, but no heat to the words.

Dazai carefully studied Chuuya's expression. "Partners?" He held out a fist.

Chuuya sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Partners," he agreed, bumping Dazai's fist with his own.

XXX

Everyone heard about it. About Dazai, about his meeting with Yosano yesterday.

The office of the Agency was quiet.

Everyone was still hoping that the door would open. Dazai would walk in, as usual and pull his usual shenanigans. He would ramble about suicide and procrastinate doing paperwork. Kunikida would yell at him. A client would show up, distracting Kunikida. Atsushi would get dragged into things by his mentor. Dazai would solve things as usual and only tell his coworkers after.

The office stayed quiet. Everyone moved slowly and carefully without speaking. To break the silence meant confronting Dazai not being part of the Agency anymore, to give up hope that it was just one of his schemes.

But as the days dragged on with no sign of him, they quietly accepted that Dazai wasn't coming back. Or at least, not for a while.

They still held onto hope.

It slowly faded.

XXX

Dazai looked through the list. He pulled out files, each with pictures and anywhere from a paragraph to five pages of information on each person. He was recruiting a mix of Ace's men and his former men to serve under him.

"Hey, Chuuya," Dazai called.

Chuuya was crashing on his office couch, practically comatose. He had already completed a job early this morning and several hours worth of paperwork.

"Chuuya," Dazai sang. He put his pen down.

There was still no real reply. Chuuya shifted slightly, his foot twitched.

Dazai gained a mischievous look. He balled up some of the scrap paper he was using to make notes. The first one hit the back of Chuuya's head. The second one was caught by a gloved hand.

"What?" Chuuya snapped.

Dazai grinned briefly, before he put a serious look on his face. "Are you giving me back Akutagawa?"

Chuuya sat up. "Do you really want him back in the first place?" He questioned, sounding slightly defensive. He had never agreed with Dazai's teaching methods.

Dazai hummed. "Not really, to be honest. He's doing far better with you than he did with me," he acknowledged.

Chuuya shot a glare at his partner. "Why'd you wake me up to ask that then?"

"To annoy you."

Chuuya groaned. He turned over on his side. "I'm going back to sleep. If you wake me up I'll dislocate your shoulder."

XXX

The table was old and worn, made of cherry wood. Although there were five chairs, there were only four people at the table.

It was the first Port Mafia Executive meeting since Dazai got back.

"Who wants to handle the negotiations with the Runarota Family on Tuesday?" Mori asked. In his hands was an open file.

"Why can't you?" Dazai replied. His eyes were half closed, half out of exhaustion, half out of annoyance.

"I promised Elise I would buy her some cake," Mori explained in a cheerful voice. Elise was currently being entertained by drawing pictures, mostly using her favorite red crayon.

Kouyou rubbed the bridge of her nose at her Boss's reply. Her exasperation was restrained but visible on her face.

Chuuya shrugged. "Makes sense."

"Chuuya," Kouyou said, mild irritation seeping through into her tone. "Please don't enable him."

Dazai sighed. He slumped forward onto the table. "I'll take it." He held up a hand, closing his eyes.

Mori put the file into Dazai's hand, receiving a muttered, slightly sarcastic, "Thank you" in response. He looked apathetic towards Dazai's lack of manners, if slightly amused.

"I heard there's been some remnants of Dostoyevsky's forces popping up here and there. And Chuuya, you've been taking care of them?"

Dazai turned his head so that his cheek was resting on the table. It was the only display of interest he'd shown the past hour.

"Yes," Chuuya politely affirmed. "They've been a bit annoying to weed out, but I think I'm getting close to finishing."

Dazai yawned and said, "It's a good thing your. . . short temper didn't get the best of you." He sat up straight, dodging the punch aimed at his shoulder.

"You could have broken the table if your arm went a bit further," Dazai noted. "But I guess you couldn't reach."

Chuuya kicked Dazai under the table—it connected with Dazai's shin. He stuck out his tongue.

"Boys," Mori said, a warning. It wasn't angry, merely a reminder they needed to get back to business.

The two young men straightened up, innocent looks now pasted on their faces.

XXX

Atsushi snarled at the man in front of him. He jolted as the attacker collapsed, a bullet hole in the man's head.

A man clad in black stood behind the attacker. He was familiar. He held a gun in his hands—the pistol that had fired the shot.

"Dazai?" Atsushi tentatively asked.

"Hello, Atsushi-kun," Dazai chirped. He turned his gun's safety on.

The situation hit Atsushi like a train—Dazai had killed someone. "What are you doing?" He whispered, horrified.

Dazai used his gun to gesture at the dead body. "This? Well. . . I'm with the Port Mafia, now." He hummed, contemplative. "Or would it be more accurate to say, again?" No, he knew 'still' would be more accurate, but wouldn't that break the little weretiger's heart?

"Dazai-san, were you blackmailed? Or something? Just say something and we can help," Atsushi frantically pleaded.

Dazai smiled softly. "Sorry, Atsushi-kun."

"Why?" Atsushi bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.

Dazai sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He gave up trying to keep Atsushi completely in the dark. "See, I never really was part of the Agency," he drawled.

Atsushi shook his head, confused. "I don't understand."

"I've always been a part of the Port Mafia."

Atsushi's heart shattered. "Was all of it fake? You bringing me in? You mentoring me?" He sounded horrified. He was horrified—the happy memories of his past three years at the Agency twisted into something dark and bitter.

Dazai chuckled, a sort of dark sound that reminded his newest—former?—apprentice that he wasn't in the Agency anymore, and never had been. His voice jumped back to hold the usual amount of cheer he displayed while part of the Agency. "Just because you're in the mafia doesn't mean you don't care about anyone, Atsushi-kun. Such an assumption. That's rather hurtful."

Atsushi's voice sounded small, like a child who had been told good news he was wary of but so desperately wanted to believe it. "You care about us?"

Dazai sighed. He set himself up for that. "I consider you all as..." He pursed his lips, mulling over his words. He settled on a word with a weight that he didn't like to admit. ". . . friends."

Atsushi's eyes lit up. "Really?" His voice was breathless, as if he could barely believe the idea.

"Yes, Atsushi-kun," Dazai replied with long suffering patience. "Now, I had best be going before my partner gets too mad about me disappearing on him in the middle of a job." Dazai stepped forward. He ruffled his former apprentice's hair and turned away.

Atsushi's smile grew dimmer as Dazai grew farther away.

Dazai's smile dropped the moment he turned his back.

XXX

Mori leafed through the photos on his desk-they were from security footage.

Dazai was typing up a report. He had been blackmailed into doing it. His gaze slid to his mentor and he couldn't resist posing a question, "How do you know Fukuzawa-san?"

"We were both students of Natsume-sensei."

The simple answer frustrated Dazai. He cocked his head, deciding to pry further as Mori seemed in an amicable enough mood. "How did you meet? What did you two do?"

Mori's lips twitched. "Fukuzawa-dono was my bodyguard."

Dazai's eyes widened. "What?"

Mori let the smile curl onto his lips. "It's true."

"But. . ." Dazai trailed off, ". . . that's so weird."

Mori chuckled. "Not back in those days." He put the photos down. "It was actually because of Natsume-sensei and Fukuzawa-dono that I put you and Chuuya-kun together."

"Really?" Dazai asked, skeptical.

"Yes," Mori affirmed.

Dazai sighed. Curiosity satisfied, his mind drifted onto other topics. He hummed thoughtfully. "Hey, Mori-san, did Chuuya and I argue less or more than we were kids?"

Mori hummed. "I don't know about the frequency, just that you two act. . . Less venomous to each other now. You'll argue, sure, but you aren't about to kill each other. . . ." He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ". . . So I don't have to worry about you two anymore."

Dazai sat up. "Hmm? What was that?"

"What was what?" Mori's expression was that of perfectly crafted confusion, innocent of any deception.

Dazai stared at Mori suspiciously.

XXX

A year later

"I'm going to retire," Mori simply announced.

"What?" Dazai and Chuuya spat out at the same time.

"I'm going to retire," Mori repeated. "I suggest you two start figuring things out," he advised.

XXX

Two days later

Mori was gone. At least, gone from being part of the Port Mafia. He had practically vanished,but was likely not far from Yokohama.

It was an odd feeling for both of Soukoku, to not see Mori sitting behind that desk.

They hadn't really discussed succession—too shellshocked by the revelation to do anything but pay attention to their jobs.

"Do you want it?" Chuuya asked. He stared at the empty chair.

Dazai looked up. "What?"

"Do you want to be the next Boss?"

"No," Dazai replied, truthfully, almost surprised his partner had asked.

Chuuya nodded. He went around the desk and sat in the chair. It felt too big for him; but that made sense, Mori was taller.

Dazai cleared aside a stack of report and perched on the desk. With amusement in his voice he asked, "So, what are you going to do, Boss?"

"Oh, God." Chuuya ran a hand down his face. "Please don't call me that, Dazai."

Dazai shrugged. "But that's what you are now."

"We're still partners."

Dazai cocked his head. "Are we, though?"

"Yes," Chuuya stressed the word. "Seriously, don't call me that."

Dazai raised his eyebrows. He crossed his ankle over his knee.

Chuuya smirked. "Fine. My first order, Dazai, never call me Boss."

Dazai laughed.

XXX

"You were a spy the whole time," Ango accused. His voice dropped in volume and energy, showing his exhaustion, "I thought you had turned over a new leaf." He guessed he was just a fool for believing.

Dazai casually shrugged, refusing to comment. "Congratulations on your promotion," he tossed over his shoulder as he left.

XXX

The building looked like it had been cleaved in half by a giant knife. On the roof were two remaining ability users.

Atsushi clawing desperately at the concrete as he slipped further down the side. His clothes were torn. He had turned his hands into tiger claws, but they did not seem to help much with holding onto concrete.

Chuuya grabbed the collar of the boy and yanked him up.

Atsushi tumbled to the floor of the rooftop.

"Kid, you need to stop falling off things," Chuuya drawled.

"You. . . you're the Boss of the Port Mafia," Atsushi recognized. He crawled onto his knees, still weak from the blood he had lost while fighting. He was light headed and close to puking his guts out. He started to desperately toss out accusations despite his physical state. "Why are you forcing Dazai to stay? Aren't you friends? Don't you care?"

Chuuya sighed. How was it that he had helped the kid and yet was getting interrogated. "I'm not forcing him to do anything. Dazai can leave whenever he wants to." He put a hand on top of his hat to keep it from being blown off and jumped out into thin air. "See you around, kid."

XXX

The summer sunlight poured in through the window side of the office.

"Are we human?" Dazai asked. He was stretched out on the couch.

"Are we human?" Chuuya pondered the question for a minute. It was an odd, uncomfortable question for him, with the story of his origin still murky. He answered, "I think so. At least, what matters about being human."

Dazai sighed. "Always the optimist."

"No, I'm a realist," Chuuya contended. He went back to reading over the reports handed in this morning, shooting back, "You're just an extreme pessimist."

"I am not," Dazai indignantly replied. "I am optimistic about some things."

"Suicide and death doesn't count," Chuuya dryly said.

"D*mn," Dazai lightly joked.

XXX

Mori had faked his death successfully and decided to become a professor at a university in Yokohama. Due to his background and extensive contact, a fake identity was rather easy for him.

The place was nice, some students were smart, and his new office was smaller but more cosy. Trinkets and worn books—mostly medical and ethics textbooks—were crowded together on the shelves.

Mori looked up. He dropped a hand beneath his desk, ready to pull out a scalpel.

"So this is where you've been hiding out," Dazai chirped. He held a hand to his side, likely putting pressure on a wound. There was a cut on his cheek, shallow and sluggishly dripping blood.

Kouyou sat in the armchair. She had been fighting, but still managed to look as prim and proper as usual. She was cleaning her katana. Instead of focusing on her blade, her eyes were on the other occupants of the room.

Chuuya closed the door. The toes of his boots were covered in dried blood—small red flakes fell off onto the wood floor.

Mori relaxed. He stood up, coming around his desk. "Injuries?" He asked. He didn't question if anyone had seen them—they were too smart and it was night time.

Dazai smiled tightly, the pain barely showing on his face. "Just a knife to the stomach, not too deep. I don't think it nicked any internal organs," he reported.

"Chuuya-kun, grab my doctor's bag please. It's behind my desk." Mori waved a hand towards the location.

"Of course, Bo—" Chuuya cut off the title, smoothly correcting himself, "Mori-san." He headed towards Mori's desk.

Mori almost let out a huff of amusement at the aborted title. He wiped away the blood on Dazai's cheek. "Rather lucky knife wound for you," he commented.

"He took me by surprise. I'm hoping to return the favor." Dazai's smile grew viciously sharp for a moments.

Mori nodded. It was a rule of the Port Mafia: pay them back in double the blood they cost you.

Kouyou sheathed her katana. "Dazai suggested we go to you since Dostoyevsky would assume you had died. We all agreed," she quietly said. Her nails clicked against the wooden arm off the chair was in.

Mori nodded, laying out the thought process. "You needed somewhere to lay low for a bit and to take care of Dazai-kun's stab wound. Additionally, having an unknown factor included and someone to help plan your next moves is advantageous."

Chuuya handed Mori the doctor's bag. "Dostoyevsky came back," he explained. He inclined his head to his former boss, a sign of respect. "We're sorry to involve you."

Mori smiled. "It's no trouble," he calmly assured. He would be happy to do what he could to help them. They knew that. It was why they had come to him—there was no one they trusted more for something like this.

A/N

The title is from Glitter and Gold, by Barns Courtney.

As usual I'm happy to play around with what ifs. All I'm saying for this oneshot is that Mori could have played things with Dazai better imo.

To dive into Mori's choices. Sending Dazai as a spy was because of several reasons. 1) A spy in the ADA would be useful 2) Dazai maturing, gaining some morals, gaining some new friends he wants to protect 3) Chuuya maturing, he has to play some mind games now that Dazai is gone, and can earn the solid respect and love of the Port Mafia 4) Mori wants Chuuya to be the next boss. The third point is very important. Chuuya's growth and good reputation will cement him as being the next boss. Dazai being gone for years will lessen the influence he has over the Port Mafia and allow Chuuya to increase his own. Mori knows that Dazai is loyal to Chuuya, and vice versa. His endgame goal is to have a Port Mafia that benefits from Dazai's genius, but doesn't get destroyed by him either. The solution he comes up with is to have Chuuya be the next Port Mafia Boss, with Dazai as his right hand.

-Silver


End file.
